53: The Attack

The time had slipped into the latter half of the night, and overhead the crescent moon was already tilting westward.

A few longboats glided swiftly across the lake, their crews armed with star-powered weapons, faces grave with vigilance as they watched the water. Wang Ben sensed a faint, elusive trace of demonic energy in the air and grew more serious, his hand gripping the Sword of Ruin without loosening. Meanwhile, Chen Longshi sat with eyes closed, resting as though indifferent to the world outside.

Observing their demeanor, Li Ying, Zheng An’nan and the others felt a lingering unease in their hearts. By all rights, they shouldn’t doubt them, but the two were simply too young. Who knew what the Sword Bureau was thinking—after waiting most of the night, only these two youths had been dispatched.

The trouble they faced tonight was no minor matter; they could only hope nothing important would be delayed.

The longboats crossed island after island in the heart of the lake, passing beneath arch after arch. Elder Jiang Zhongshan, weighed down with worry, spoke little. Town Mayor Zheng An’nan suppressed his suspicions, forcing himself to stay spirited as he introduced the sights to Wang Ben.

Even at night, one could appreciate the intricate network of rivers running through the entire Fairy Lake. Most pleasing were the various bridges, among them an ancient stone arch now coming into view. Beneath the bridge hung an old iron sword of striking appearance.

Zheng An’nan said, “That hanging sword is one of our town’s famous landmarks. No one knows which dynasty placed it there; it must have stood for centuries. Through all those years of wind, frost, rain, and snow, the blade has never rusted. An expert once declared the bridge dangerous and wanted to demolish it, rebuild anew, and preserve the sword in a museum. In the end, they used two tons of explosives, but nothing happened—not a scratch. The Construction Bureau wanted to try again, but the townsfolk opposed them unanimously, so the sword was rehung.”

Wang Ben asked in puzzlement, “Could there be some feng shui secret at work here?”

Zheng An’nan grinned with pride. “They say this sword balances yin and yang; it's the finishing touch, not to be moved. The wisdom of the ancients—much of it still eludes modern science.”

Chen Longshi grew slightly interested, opening his eyes to inspect the sword. In his perception, even the wind flowing through the bridge’s arch seemed to swirl around the blade, and the demonic energy here was markedly weaker.

Suddenly, the boat shuddered and stopped steadily beneath the bridge.

“Something’s happening!”

The captain of the secret realm team barked out, and everyone tensed, weapons ready, energy chambers open for immediate battle.

But Chen Longshi stood up and waved his hand. “It’s all right. I stopped the boat.”

“I’m just curious about this sword, Mayor Zheng. May I take it down for a closer look?”

Everyone was taken aback, not sure how he’d stopped the boat, while Wang Ben rolled his eyes. “Cheater.”

Zheng An’nan recovered quickly and replied generously, “Of course, no problem.”

“Thank you.”

Chen Longshi gestured, and the feng shui iron sword flew smoothly into his hand. Though light and free of rust, the centuries of wind and weather had left it somewhat battered. As he attuned himself to the blade, he sensed a faint spirit within. At his waist, the Zhi Jiang Sword gave a jealous hum.

Chen Longshi smiled—just a sword with the first stirrings of a spirit.

After enduring a dimensional storm and centuries of feng shui nurture in Heluo Town, the sword had finally grown a spirit and was evolving toward becoming a star artifact on its own. Such cases were rare, and if left to its own devices, the transformation would be slow—perhaps never in his lifetime.

He tossed the sword back to its place, and the boat shuddered once more, regaining freedom to continue forward.

The display evoked awe in the group—so this was a Sword Bureau operative. Ability was not all about age, especially since this youth already led a special operations team.

“Captain Chen, what do you make of the sword?” Zheng An’nan asked.

Chen Longshi smiled. “Fascinating—a sword spirit has emerged. If a swordsman regularly nurtured it with their own star force, essence, and spirit, it might soon evolve into a proper star artifact. If it stays here, be careful someone doesn’t steal it.”

“Sword spirit?”

Even Jiang Zuer and Li Ying were stunned; they’d never heard of swords possessing spirits.

Previously listless, Jiang Zuer’s eyes lit up at the mention, eager as she watched the iron sword return to its place.

Zheng An’nan, merely a common man, understood nothing of sword spirits, but Chen Longshi’s earnest praise warmed his heart, and he continued, somewhat proudly, “Our town’s most famous feature isn’t the hanging sword, but a well. On sunny days, its water is crystal clear, but if the bottom turns muddy, rain is certain to follow. So it’s called the Weather Well. On the gate’s ancient porch are nine carved wooden carp that change color with the weather. There are over three hundred strange occurrences, which is why Heluo Town attracts so many visitors.”

Chen Longshi was intrigued. “I surveyed the town when I arrived. Eleven hills encircle it, drawing in star force. But the streams and lakes show signs of alteration—must have been the work of a master.”

“Exactly!” The mayor’s eyes sparkled. “About that, Elder Jiang should have the most to say.”

Jiang Zhongshan, troubled, had little interest in conversation, but on this topic he took pride and began, “Legend has it, centuries ago Heluo Town was just a small mountain village, plagued by droughts, floods, and frequent fires. Then a great official arose—my ancestor, in fact—who befriended Liu Bowen, the Imperial Chancellor. He invited Liu Bowen to inspect the village. Liu altered the straight stream into a winding one, with a ring-shaped brook and surrounding hills and central lake forming a giant Tai Chi diagram.

You see, the Dragon’s Stele statue on the lake’s central island was commissioned by Liu Bowen himself. With the stele anchoring the water’s eye, Fairy Lake’s waters have never surged or overflowed.

Strangely, after this transformation, the village never suffered drought or flood again, and prospered. Officials and nobles multiplied, as did artists, magicians, and scholars. Over time, the surplus grew, and the village became a town.”

Chen Longshi looked over and indeed saw a grand sculpture.

Carved from a single block of granite, its base was the legendary Bixi.

In myth, Bixi is said to be the Dragon King’s son. Of his nine sons, Bixi is strongest, gentle, and fond of bearing weight. Unlike his siblings, he resembles a turtle, but his head is dragon-like. When ancient people wanted to erect a stele that would stand for eternity, they imagined what creature could bear its weight and make a name last forever.

So they called upon Bixi, placing the stele on its back, hoping its strength would make a legacy endure.

The enormous blank stone stele atop its back stood at least a dozen meters tall, weighing over a hundred tons. Ancient builders lacked modern conveniences, so crafting such a statue must have been a formidable task. But ancient China was never short of workers who could create miracles.

Chen Longshi exclaimed with genuine admiration, “Liu Bowen, famed for seeing five hundred years ahead and behind—his reputation is well deserved. Yet the statue now seems tilted, doesn’t it?”

Jiang Zhongshan replied, “Yes. The elders say the feng shui has been disrupted, which allowed monsters to plague the town.”

Wang Ben, uninterested in these tales, interjected, “Is there anything good to eat in town?”

“Glutton!” Jiang Zuer muttered quietly.

“Zuer, mind your manners!”

Jiang Zhongshan feigned a reprimand for his granddaughter, then smiled apologetically. “Of course there is.

Fairy Lake produces peach blossom fish. Due to the unique climate encircled by mountains, the peach trees here bloom only in autumn, for half a month. The fish in the lake feed on fallen petals, making their flesh exceptionally tender. Normally, fishermen would harvest them at this time of year, but the monsters ruined things—no catches this year. Otherwise, you could have tasted Heluo Town’s famed peach blossom fish.”

“In the water?” Chen Longshi mused.

“None left?” Wang Ben was crestfallen.

Jiang Zhongshan looked embarrassed. “There are a few dried ones, but they’re not as fresh as live catches…”

At that moment, Chen Longshi’s expression shifted as he gazed at the rapids downstream. With a slight gesture, he interrupted, “Prepare for battle!”

Everyone froze again, but Li Ying chose to trust him and shouted, “Prepare for battle!”

Wang Ben raised his weapon and stood, watching the front but seeing no sign of danger, casting a doubtful look at Chen Longshi. He didn’t have long to wait—a few seconds later, under the moonlight, a strange line appeared, spreading from below the water to the surface, as if some enormous creature was rapidly approaching from beneath.